Friends in a hopeless place
by EmilySamara
Summary: Everything is better when you have a friend, no matter how weird they are.
1. Chapter 1

He had survived the murderous cries of the Hounds, the bloodthirsty snarls of spiders, and even the horrifying music box-like call of the fire-stealer, but only at this new sound did Wilson freeze in his tracks.

He blinked. As it used to whenever he conducted experiments, Wilson's brain categorized his thoughts into the most plausible explanations and rationales that could arise from the startling noise.

First and foremost: he could have imagined it. It was entirely possible and very probable, seeing as he'd spent a bit more time than he would have liked lingering around the dark part of the woods with the creepy flowers, which always seemed to take a toll on his sanity. And even if he hadn't imagined it—he had definitely noted some birds fleeing from the source of the noise—there were plenty of explanations. A trick of Maxwell's, a strange new animal's cry, a distant echo…?

But then he heard it again, and his list of rationales evaporated. It was, without a doubt, a woman's scream.

Wilson hated having his options reduced to their most primal bones, fight or flight, but this world often forced him into that situation. This time, he would fight.

He raced in the direction of the cry, hearing more noises as he got closer: the rustling of pine needles, quick footsteps, labored breathing. Acting on a hunch, he broke through the foliage only to come face to branch with a hulking tree guard.

Thinking fast (well, as fast as he could think with his heart in his throat), Wilson tore off his backpack and pulled out his trusty ice staff. A few hits froze the piney monster in its tracks. Exhaling sharply, Wilson hastily planted a handful of the pine cones he kept in his pocket for such occasions and backed away as the thawing creature let out a pleased grunt and began to retreat.

Turning around, Wilson's heart leapt right back up into his mouth at the sight of… a girl? A real, living, breathing, human, female…

 _Let's not jump to conclusions_ , Wilson reminded himself. She (?) could always be another one of Maxwell's tricks. Maybe she was one of those Kitsune-foxes he had read about?

The maybe-girl, who was lying on the ground a few steps away, started to scramble up, pulling something out of her pocket.

"Hey, hey! Whoa!" Wilson leapt back, holding up his staff.

"Who are you? _What_ are you?" The girl spat, producing a lighter from her pocket. "Tell me or I burn down the forest!"

"Hey! Take it easy! Is that a real lighter? Where did you get that? Are _you_ real? It's Wilson."

The girl furrowed her brow, lowering the lighter. "What's Wilson?"

"My name. Wilson P. Higgsbury. I'm a scientist. Who are you? What are you doing here?"

"A scientist?" She cocked her head.

"Yes. A gentleman scientist, I like to fancy myself."

The girl's face softened. Wilson weighed the movement and dropped his staff, raising his palms in a gesture of peace.

"It's Willow."

"What?"

She laughed—a musical, flutey sound. "My name. It's Willow. See how that feels?"

Wilson cracked a grin. "Sorry. I tend to act without thinking sometimes." He shouldered his backpack and got a good look at what he was almost sure was a human girl named Willow.

She had black hair divided into girlish pigtails, large pale eyes, and was white as a sheet save for her rosy cheeks. She wore a red blouse, long black skirt and black boots. The pigtails made her seem younger, but Wilson guessed she was in her early twenties.

"So what are you doing here, Willow?"

She sighed. "I honestly can't remember. I woke up, and some tall jerk in a suit told me to get some food and then disappeared." She shrugged. "So that's what I've been doing—well, that and lighting fires. I was gathering more wood when that thing popped up."

Wilson had to strain to pay attention to the rest of her story after she mentioned the "tall jerk in a suit." He hated that guy—he'd used his own curiosity against him, the pretentious jerk.

"He's the reason we're here. He tricked us. Well, he tricked me at least." Wilson briefly relayed how Maxwell, through the radio, had dragged him into this strange place.

Willow scrunched up her face. "Stupid Maxwell."

The two stood in awkward silence.

"Do you have a camp set up?" Wilson asked, wanting to ask her a million things but needing to ask only a few.

"Just a fire pit. I'm trying to find gold so I can build a science machine."

"I can give you some gold." Her pale eyes brightened, but as soon as the words left his lips Wilson regretted it, having already thought of a better idea. "Oh—but it's back at my camp. I've got a fire pit, a science machine, an alchemy engine…"

"Oh, wow. Really? Do you have a lot of wood and stuff? For fires?"

"Well, um, of course. I use grass tufts, mostly—"

"Oh, those are wonderful!"

Gauging her happiness and, therefore, willingness to agree, Wilson took the leap.

"Want to camp with me? We could team up. It would be a lot easier. To survive, I mean."

Willow laughed again, and Wilson's heart dropped. "Of course, ha! I had assumed we would be! I was hoping you'd ask."

Wilson breathed a sigh of relief. "Perfect. I'll lead you back." Ideas were forming fast in Wilson's head, and he felt almost giddy. New possibilities excited him more than the radio show with that Sagan professor he used to listen to back home.

"Once we get back, I'll give you my shovel. Dig up some grass tufts for fuel and pick as many berries and carrots as you can. I could also use some more flint… Oh! Take my axe, too, and get some wood. I've been needing more boards." Wilson paused, so caught up in his new plans and ideas that he had neglected to pay attention to Willow. To his relief, she seemed fine with his plans.

"So, lots of fuel and food. What will you be doing?"

"I found a great marsh biome up north from here. I've been needing some more reeds, so I was heading up there. I might not be back until night. Can you get a fire going?"

"Can I!" Willow laughed again, not quite as musical as the first time. More maniacal. "It's what I do best!" She whipped out her lighter again and flicked it on.

"Isn't it pretty?"

"I've always been a fan of fire," Wilson agreed, though he was a bit disconcerted by how lovingly she stared at the flame. "It's such an important component to science."

"Yeah! Burn!" She replied.

Wilson smiled uneasily.

"Oh! Here we are," he said as he spotted a trap of his, indicating proximity to his camp. "My shovel's over there. Here's my axe. Gather whatever you can and get back here before nighttime. Sound good?"

Willow reluctantly flicked the lighter off, but gave him a smile anyway. "Sure thing, partner."


	2. Chapter 2

"The days are getting shorter," Wilson remarked over dinner one night. They had been working together for about ten days, and dinnertime conversations were a favorite of Willow's. Even if their only food was berries and a morsel of rabbit meat, and even if the only topics of conversation were about allotting time for traveling and refining materials, it was relieving to be able to speak to someone.

"I've noticed," Willow replied, tearing her gaze away from the fire to look at him. "What do you think it means?"

Wilson gazed at the dusk sky. "It means that summer isn't the only season."

"Ugh. You mean winter's coming?" Willow scrunched up her nose.

"I'm afraid so."

Willow shuddered. The only thing she hated more than cold things were wet things, and the only thing she hated more than wet things were _cold_ wet things. "You hate it too?"

"Well, it's not that I _hate_ it—it'll just make things a bit more difficult around here." He took a bite of corn. "Namely, harder to get food. These farms won't sustain us much longer. We'll have to find another source of food, soon."

"How about more traps? Or a birdcage?"

Wilson sighed. "I was trying to avoid that. I feel sort of guilty when we kill the rabbits."

Willow rolled her eyes even though she knew what he meant. She felt a little pang of _something_ unsettling whenever she killed an innocent creature.

"Well, let's try to build an icebox. We'll need to find some gears, which involves gravedigging, but you can handle that, right?"

"Good idea," Willow murmured. She had doubted at first if he was actually a scientist—his remarks about the evergreens being "all piney" were funny, but not very… well, scientific. However, her doubts had been extinguished soon enough by hearing him think aloud and seeing his ideas take shape. How could she have survived without him? He always knew just where to place bee mines and tooth traps, when to venture out at night to gather fireflies, and precisely how many times he could attack a spider without getting hurt.

Then again, she had done her fair share too. Her lighter was extremely useful on the rare occasions when Wilson miscalculated when night would fall and they needed an emergency source of light. She was also great at gravedigging and other creepy activities, as simply sitting by the fire cleared her mind.

However, today she'd spent a bit too much time gathering evil flowers to create nightmare fuel, and she needed a good sleep to clear her head. She finished up her hot pumpkin and started to snuggle into her straw roll.

However, just as she was about to drift off, she heard a strange sound—like heavy, guttural breathing.

Wilson straightened up immediately, his eyes widening as he whipped his head around. "Did you hear that?"

Willow nodded, climbing out of her straw roll and reaching for her spear. The deep noise continued.

"Show yourself!" She commanded, blushing a bit at the unintended shrillness.

"It's the Hounds." Wilson grabbed his ice staff. "I'll handle it."

The whining gasps grew closer and closer until Willow could see red eyes and sharp, hungry teeth looming all too close to the camp. Three pairs of eyes. Three sets of teeth.

Wilson threw three blasts from his Ice Staff, and Willow started to relax. But then…

As Wilson geared up for the fourth blast, the staff shattered in his hand.

Wilson stumbled backwards as the Hounds started to thaw. "Willow," he whispered. "Run. I'll hold them off." He picked up Willow's spear.

"What?! There's no way you can do that! They're way too strong!"

"I can do it!" He lied, his voice shaking. "Run!"

Willow picked herself up and began to obey, then stopped. She flicked on her lighter and started to yell.

"Hey, you mangy mutts! Over here!"

"Willow? What in God's name—"

It was too late. The Hounds stopped advancing towards Wilson and fixed their hungry gaze on Willow.

"Come on! Get some!" She shouted as she began to run to the woods, hoping to God this idea would work.

"Willow! No!" _Was that a catch in his voice?_ She had no time to ponder it.

She ran and ran. She had to make sure she was far enough away from Wilson and the camp, and in the correct biome, for her plan to have the greatest effect. Just as she could feel the hot, wet breath on her heels, she held up the small flame to the nearest tree.

The effect was instantaneous. The tree burst into flame, as did its neighbor, and the one next to it, and the one next to that.… Within seconds the forest was ablaze, as were the now-squealing Hounds.

Willow stood, transfixed by the flames, until she heard heavy panting coming from behind her.

"My… Willow! My God! You scared me! I mean, that was brilliant, of course… couldn't have done it better myself… but my God! I was worried!"

Willow rolled her eyes. "Oh, Wilson, I'm fine."

He huffed. "Well, I didn't know that!"

"Now you do."

Wilson opened his mouth, then shut it. "Oh, well. You're safe, they're dead, it's fine. Good job back there." He turned back towards the camp. "Now to worry about winter."


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks in no small part to Wilson's careful planning, the two made it through the seasonal change with ease. Plenty of vegetables from the farms were stored in the icebox, and both had cozy vests and thermal stones for adventuring. Of course, Willow had her lighter for some quick warmth from some unfortunate tree or bush, and Wilson now had his beard.

It truly was a magnificent beard. It reached almost to his knees and kept him just as warm as a vest and hat did. Willow just had to poke fun at him for it every once in a while, but he took it in stride.

"It's quite unsightly, I know. I'd never have grown something like this back home. But desperate times do call for desperate measures."

The two were sitting by the fire enjoying a well-earned dinner of jerky and slightly-stale carrots that had been roasted to freshness.

"What was your life like before… this?" Willow asked.

Wilson sighed. He missed his old life dearly, but thinking too much about it depressed him. Fur rolls were comfy enough, but they were nothing compared to his bed. "I mostly stayed inside all day and performed experiments. I could never get enough science! I was in a rut when Maxwell tricked me." He shook his head. "I should have just stuck to the basics, but I missed the thrill of discovery."

"Sounds pretty boring." Willow clapped a hand to her mouth. She was generally callous with words, but being so rude to Wilson felt uncalled for. "Sorry, just slipped out."

Wilson gave a weak grin. "It's alright. That life's not for everyone. What about you?"

Willow took a bite of jerky to buy some time. "Oh, you know… went to school, worked at a candle shop. Normal stuff." He didn't have to know that she never had friends at school or that she got fired from her job for burning through a fortune of merchandise. Out there, he was some kind of respected scientist—a genius, even. Her follies would disgust him, she was sure.

Wilson frowned. "School? How old are you?"

"Oh, I mean, I used to go to school. Not for a while. I'm twenty-two."

Wilson laughed. "Oh, really? That's funny, I'm thirty-three."

"Thirty-three?" It sounded either too old or too young. Wilson looked very young, with his thick, wild hair and now-muscular frame—part of the reason she doubted he was truly a scientist. However, his deep black eyes rimmed by dark circles seemed to belong to a much older man. "And you're already slaving over experiments all day?"

Wilson shrugged. "It's all I ever wanted to do." _Twenty-two, huh?_ Her pigtails and youthful fascination with fire did make her seem a bit younger, but her face was too angular and her body too… developed for her to be a child.

He shook out the weird last thought with a sad sigh. "Do you think we'll ever get out of here?"

Willow shrugged. "Who knows? I'm in no hurry to get back. My life wasn't great. And look at you! You're still doing science stuff, right?"

Wilson laughed dryly. "I'd prefer to do science stuff without the threat of Hounds, thanks very much."

"True."

The wind howled through the camp, jolting them into survival mode.

"Brrr. Stoke the fire, Willow?"

"Of course." She threw on a grass tuft and grinned as the fire roared, warming only the front side of her body. "My butt is still cold," she giggled as she began to lay out her fur roll.

Wilson laughed. "Not much we can do about that."

"Hey!" Willow turned to him. "Do we need to craft anything tonight? Or organize?"

"I don't think so. Why?"

"Why don't you sleep next to me? You could keep me warm!" The two had never slept at the same time before—it just wasn't useful.

"Hey, that's actually a good idea!" Wilson grabbed his fur roll and spread it out next to Willow's.

"Mmm. I'm cozier already," she murmured drowsily.

"Good." Wilson slipped into his roll and relaxed. Willow was already asleep by the time he got comfortable.

As the survival aspect ebbed a bit, Wilson wondered why he didn't face away from the fire, so they were back to back. His beard would keep him warm, and his behind wouldn't be cold.

He didn't want to, though, even though in a physical sense, it was more comfortable. In a physical sense.

He liked being able to see Willow. The two were often so busy trying to survive that he didn't have time to really appreciate the fact that he had a friend. His situation had grown infinitely better since meeting her—not only because he had an extra hand to gather materials and hunt, but so he wasn't alone with his thoughts in a strange world. And not only was she _someone_ , she was a _nice_ someone. She was witty and smart and seemed to admire his intellect, plus she was pretty.

 _Wait, why does that matter? Physical attractiveness has no bearing on a person's likability._ Wilson struggled to find reasoning for that thought, then concluded that it elevated his mental health to look at something he found physically pleasing. Completely rational. Besides, he had no other means of comparison. She was literally the prettiest girl in this world. And… his old world, pretty much. He hadn't exactly met many women before.

Meanwhile, the not-really-sleeping Willow was having more trouble rationalizing the fact that she found Wilson attractive, even with the beard, and even knowing the fact that he was over a decade older than she was. That she was actually _happy_ that her butt was cold so that she could ask him to sleep next to her. That for the first time in her life she was actually watching what she said so she didn't upset him, which she shouldn't have had to worry about because they _needed_ each other.

But she also wanted him to _want_ her.

She almost wished she was hungry so she could take her mind off this weird subject. But she wasn't. She had to be content with Wilson's handsome face invading her dreams.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey, guys, so the rating of this story is going to go up soon. I'd also really appreciate some feedback! Thanks!**

"We did it!" Willow crowed as she threw petal confetti into the air.

"We really did do it," Wilson murmured, still not quite believing that the snow was actually melting, that the horrible winter was really over.

"Thanks to you! We never could have done it without you!" She punched him playfully on the shoulder.

"Oh, hush, Willow. You know you helped just as much."

"Still! I can't believe it!" Willow flopped down next to Wilson and they grinned crazily at each other.

"Know what this means?" Wilson asked.

"What?"

"I can shave my beard!"

Willow laughed, rolling on her back. "Finally!"

Smiling, Wilson dug an old razor out of one of their chests and began shaving off his behemoth of a beard, carefully saving the hair in case they needed it for a later project. "How do I look?"

Willow took one look and burst into laughter, covering her mouth. He had nicks all over his face and random amounts of stubble everywhere. He looked like he'd rolled in dark Beefalo fur.

Wilson grinned sheepishly, scratching his face. "That bad? Wish I had a mirror." He realized then that he hadn't seen his own face ever since he'd been here.

"No, wait, it's okay. Let me do it." Willow took the razor and cupped Wilson's chin in her hand.

"Sure you know what you're doing?"

"Nope." But she was careful as could be as she groomed Wilson's patchy stubble, hoping he didn't notice that she was stealing glances into his dark eyes whenever she could.

He never did. He was trying to hard to rationalize how good it felt to have her touch him like this, to be so close to her. She smelled clean and sweet and unmistakably female, like flowers and fresh water, and her hand was soft and smooth on his face. A girl had never been this close to him before. He felt a bit woozy… was something causing a lack of bloodflow to the brain… wait, what was going on? Was he… ?

 _It… It's just because I'm male, and she's female, and we're… well… alone. It's just primal instinct. It's just primal instinct that I'm… attracted to her. And… yes, I'm biologically aroused, I guess._ God, even if it was rationalized, he couldn't stand it. He glanced at a rabbit and longed to disappear into the Kingdom of the Bunnymen instead of kneeling here with pants that were all of a sudden tight and uncomfortable.

"Something wrong?" Willow asked as she noticed him swallow hard.

"What? Uh… oh, no, nothing." He flexed his arms, trying to divert blood flow elsewhere. Was that a medical myth?

She finished cleaning up his face by wiping it with some cut grass, and it almost hurt how handsome he looked. His wild dark hair, his sharp cheekbones, his large black eyes…

His large black eyes that were staring deeply into hers…

Before she could even decide if the look was intentional, Wilson looked away and cleared his throat. "Well. Hm. Back to business." He hunched a bit as he stood.

"What business?" Willow asked. "Why are you standing like that?"

"I, uh, slept wrong."

"You slept last night?"

"I feel, um, stiff?" _Oh, great word choice, Higgsbury. Come on, man, concentrate! Survival!_

"Oh. Uh, okay."

 **Clearly the rating will go up! Please review!**


	5. Chapter 5

They explored for days, not talking much, until finally Willow had had enough and begged to return to the camp to relax for a bit.

But there really wasn't much business left to do. They had plenty of food, plenty of raw materials, and there wasn't much left to craft.

As they finished a quiet dinner of berries and dragonfruit, Willow stole a glance at Wilson's dark eyes again—at the same time he tried to steal a glance at her wide pale ones.

Willow inhaled sharply and Wilson looked away again. "Uh… I'm… um, sorry. I'm tired."

"Sorry about what?" Willow pressed hopefully, scooting a bit closer. Twice was no accident. That _had_ to be intentional.

"Oh… um… I thought I made you uncomfortable. It's scientifically proven, you know, that direct eye contact can make people very uncomfortable."

"I wasn't uncomfortable," Willow replied softly.

Wilson took a deep breath. "Oh. Um. You weren't?"

"Nope." She paused. "Why were you looking at me, anyway?"

"Oh… uh, no reason. I just… um…" His brain had turned to mush. There was only one option. "I… I like your eyes. They're physically attractive."

"Yours are too." Willow looked up, but he was staring straight ahead, into the fire. "Is… is the rest of me physically attractive?"

"Wh-what?" Wilson gave a short burst of laughter. "Wh-why do you ask that?"

If he thought it, he wouldn't admit it. She had to take the plunge. "Well… _I_ find the rest of _you_ … physically attractive."

His head snapped up and his lovely black eyes bored into hers. Her heartbeat seemed to quicken, although Wilson had told her that wasn't very common when not being hunted. "Really? You do? Well… um…" He coughed. "I do… find the rest of you physically attractive. I mean, you're technically the prettiest girl in the world." Willow lit up, and he hastily tried to explain. "I mean… because… there's no one else. I mean, of course I'm attracted to you. I'm a male, and, well, you're a female, and—"

He was silenced by her lips.

God, he didn't know he wanted that so much until now. He was immeasurably disappointed when she pulled away after only a second.

He stared at her, and for a second she worried that she had ruined it, but then his lips were on hers, and his arms were around her waist, pulling her close, and her hands were entwined in his beautiful thick hair, pulling him closer.

Every kiss was measured, lovely, and just a little sloppy—absolutely perfect each time. Wilson's strong hands roamed Willow's body, traveling upwards from her waist—slowly, so she could have time to stop him if she wanted. It turned out she wanted just the opposite, gently pushing his hands towards her chest.

In his thirty-three years, Wilson had never had a girlfriend, or even a girl friend, except for Willow. He'd never known how amazing it felt to massage a girl's breasts as she moaned. He felt, once again, a rush of blood leave his head and thicken between his thighs. He hoped Willow wouldn't notice, not yet at least, but they were so close that she felt it in an instant.

"Oh!" She gasped, breaking apart from him. _Is that why he was hunching over earlier?_

"I-I'm sorry," Wilson stammered, shifting his legs in an effort to hide his arousal.

"No, it's… it's okay, I was just surprised." She leaned in to kiss him again, but moved her hands downwards and began gently stroking him through his pants. He couldn't stop a small gasp as his hands encircled her shoulders, bringing her even closer to him.

"That… that feels so good," he whispered. His heartbeat was quickening; he'd needed to pull away to breathe.

"Does it?"

"God, yes."

"I… I've never done anything like this before."

"Neither have I."

Willow looked up at him, her eyes wide and her cheeks flushed. She started to unbutton her blouse.


	6. Chapter 6

"You…" He meant to say "you don't have to," but he was silenced as she pulled her shirt over her head, revealing her thin white shoulders and a black camisole. Transfixed, he watched as she slipped off the thin straps of the undershirt and pulled it down to her stomach.

Her breasts were small, like the rest of her, and just as beautiful as he'd imagined. Automatically he reached for them and brushed his fingers over the sensitive nipples as he pulled her into another kiss. She shivered and moaned as he worked his strong hands over her bare skin.

"Do you mind if I try something?" He breathed as they gasped for air.

"Go ahead," Willow whispered, giddy with excitement.

Hesitating for just a moment, he dipped his head down and took her left breast in his mouth, gently sucking and nibbling as she gasped.

"Oh… keep doing that, Wilson. It feels so good."

He moved on to the other one, playing with the first absentmindedly with his fingers. After a while, he pulled away and looked at her, asking permission for something else.

By way of an answer, Willow pulled the undershirt over her head and kicked off her boots. Slowly, she stripped off her long stockings and finally stepped out of her skirt.

She stood in front of him, pale and blushing and naked, shyly looking up at him for approval.

He couldn't take his eyes off her. He stepped towards her and put his arm around her waist, dipping her into a deep kiss. He laid her out gently on a straw roll and pushed her legs apart, placing his head in between them.

"Sure you know what you're doing?" She asked coyly.

Wilson smiled. "Nope." He had seen many diagrams while studying biology, but of course he'd never done anything like this. He just knew all the scientific names for what lay in front of him.

Cautiously, he licked the length of her lips, his tongue alternating between flat and soft or hard and pointy, and slowly moved inwards toward her opening. He stuck his tongue inside while gently kneading her clitoris with his fingers, which elicited appreciative moans. Trailing upwards, he licked the sensitive area gently before sucking on it a bit more strongly, making Willow buck her hips and throw her head back.

After a while, Willow sat up. Wilson immediately drew back and wiped his mouth, confused and worried.

"Don't worry; you're doing fine," she reassured him. "I just want to do something for you."

Drawing herself up on her knees, she pushed Wilson down to a sitting position. He straightened out his legs and inhaled sharply as Willow knelt between his knees and started to unbuckle his belt. She massaged him through his pants a bit, then pulled them down and revealed Wilson's manhood to all the world. She gasped softly.

Wilson looked away, embarrassed. "What?"

"I… I don't know. It's kind of big."

"It's only average. Six inches. I—ah!"

He forgot whatever useless nonsense he was going to say as Willow took the head into her mouth and teased it with her tongue. Wilson closed his eyes in ecstasy as she began to suck, slowly bobbing her head up and down and gagging slightly whenever she took in the full length. Her mouth was warm and wet, and he had never felt so good in his life. He opened his eyes and saw her watching steadily from below, stroking him with her hand as she sucked on the head. Almost unaware of what he was doing, he put his hand on his head and ran his fingers through her hair, moaning as she quickened her pace.

After a while, Wilson cried "Stop!"

Willow snapped up immediately, her pale eyes a bit watery. "What?"

"Y-you were going to make me…" He didn't want to end that sentence, and didn't need to. Willow nodded and lay back down, parting her legs. Wilson, uncomfortably hot, stripped off his vest and shirt. Willow was happily surprised as how muscular he was, and wanted him more than ever as he positioned himself on top of her.

Wilson looked into her eyes. "Are you ready?"

"God, yes," she moaned.

Wilson nodded, raised himself up and slowly began to enter her. She took a sharp breath.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, it just… feels strange." It hurt a bit, but nothing too bad.

Wilson pushed in, slowly, to make her comfortable. He kept going slowly for the first few strokes, until Willow whispered "Faster."

Wilson raised himself up and thrust into her, not too quick at first, but gaining speed as she relaxed more and let out small gasps after every thrust. He leaned down and kissed her deeply as he went even faster, feeling her heart beat under his chest. She opened her eyes and looked up at him, and Wilson felt himself getting close.

"Willow… I'm… I'm going to…"

"Do it inside," she whispered, and that was all he needed.

Willow felt him throb and gasped as a jet of warmth filled her when he finished. Exhausted, he rested his head on her shoulder and rolled off her.

"I… I'm sorry if that wasn't satisfying… to you," he said in a strained voice.

"It was wonderful, Wilson," Willow whispered as she curled up with her head on his muscular chest.

"Oh… good. I'm glad."

They lay there in silence. After a while, Wilson pulled his pants up and rolled on his side to face her.

"God, you're beautiful, Willow," he said, cupping her face in his hand and gazing at her so lovingly it spread a warmth throughout her whole body. "You're so beautiful, and kind, and gentle… I… I love you. So much."

"Wilson," she murmured, running her hands over his stomach. "You're so handsome, you're so, so smart." She thought of how cautious and careful he had been. "I love you. Please stay with me. Always."

"Of course."

"Can we... do this again, sometime?"

"Of course."

And at that moment, neither of them really cared if they ever got out of this place, or found Maxwell, or found anyone else for that matter. They had each other. They had a friend.

 **Does anyone want me to continue this? Also this was my first erotica ever, please don't be too mean, haha.**


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